


Come along for the ride with me

by janescott



Category: Best Song Ever - One Direction (Music Video), One Direction
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, First Time, Fluff, best song ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janescott/pseuds/janescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erm. Marcel and Veronica's first time. I ..... got nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come along for the ride with me

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by magenta <3
> 
> Nothing belongs to me, I'm just .. writing fic about fictional charcters from a music video. As you do.

Veronica stares at the time, tucked away in the corner of her computer, willing five o' clock to come just that much faster.

It's Friday afternoon, it's been a _long_ week and she has plans.

No one needs to know her plans consist of changing into her rattiest trackies, ordering pizza and marathoning Masterchef. That's between her and her slowly dying ficus.

She straightens up and clacks at a few keys when someone goes past her desk, but they don't even glance her way.

She looks at the time again. 4.30pm.

Veronica pulls a face at the inoffensive numbers and starts mentally counting down the minutes till she can escape being Veronica-the-assistant for the next two days.

She glances up as Marcel goes past her desk, his mouth turned down and well, that's not okay. Veronica feels her fingers twitch with the desire to strip all of the damn gel out of his hair, and the absolute need to buy him a new pair of glasses and a new wardrobe, but he's one of the few people in this stupid place that Veronica _likes_.

"Hey, honey," she says as he goes past her desk, with god-knows-what rolled up under his arm. Set on yet another crazy project he'll do all the work for while the bosses take all the credit.

Marcel blinks and turns, swearing as the rolled up posters he's got under his arm sweep Veronica's penholder off the end of her desk.

"Shoot! I'm sorry!"

Veronica just sighs and watches as Marcel drops what he's carrying and scrambles to pick up her pens.

"It's okay, honey."

Marcel steadies the holder on her desk and offers a small smile.

"Pull up a chair, talk to me."

Marcel blinks and then frowns and _god_ Veronica just wants to -

He sighs and grabs a chair from an empty desk, collapsing on it and letting his long legs sprawl out.

"What do you want to talk about?"

Veronica props her chin on one hand and smiles, which never fails to make Marcel blush and stare at the floor.

She smiles at him as often as she can, because it's just too _easy_.

"Nothing special. Just passing the last .... 15 minutes before quitting time. What're you doing tonight?"

Marcel shrugs and drops his eyes to pick at a loose thread on the bottom of his vest. Veronica's fingers twitch again as she imagines unravelling the whole damn thing, but she gives herself a mental shake as he starts talking.

"Uh, nothing? Kicked out for the night, anyway, my room-mate has a big date and said I'd just cramp his style."

"So - where are you going to go?"

Marcel shrugs and his eyes flick up to meet her gaze before he drops it to the loose thread again.

"Movies, I guess. Walk around for a bit. Sneak in later and hope I don't get yelled at."

Veronica sighs and refrains from gritting her teeth, or going on a rant about Marcel's useelss room-mate who doesn't work, pay rent, or, as far as Veronica knows, treat Marcel like an actual human being.

"No you're not. You're coming home with me."

That does get Marcel's attention and he stares at Veronica for a good thirty seconds.

"What? Aren't you, you know - going out?"

Veronica pulls a face as she stands up, logging out of her computer at the same time.

"Babe, I've had more than enough Friday nights propping up a bar stool, or in a club with some guy's hand on my ass telling me how 'exotic' I look while he stares down my dress. I'd rather spend it with you. Plus, I can't have you wandering the streets, Bambi. You'll get lost, or murdered or something. Can't have that on my conscience.

"You ready?"

Marcel just stares at her, blinking, his eyes looking huge behind his thick lenses.

"Uh. I just have to uh. Put these away?"

Veronica smiles and points down the hallway to the ladies. "I'll meet you outside when you're done, okay?"

"Uh. Uhm. Uh. Sure."

Veronica ducks down the hallway to the ladies, running cold water over her wrists and pulling a face at herself in the mirror. The water is cool and it serves to wake her up a little from her end-of-the-week sluggishness.

She straightens her skirt, rolls her shoulders back to relieve some tension that always lingers there, and heads out to find Marcel hovering by the automatic doorway, watching as he startles back every time he triggers the sensor.

A few of their colleagues go past, one or two slapping Marcel too hard on the shoulder and asking him what he's up to for the weekend, before moving on without waiting to hear the answer.

She reaches him just as another batch of idiots disgorge from the elevator.

They eye her slightly warily but that's probably because she sent one of them to the ER with a strained wrist the last time he tried to grab her ass. She offers her widest smile with the most teeth and they shuffle back again.

Too easy.

Turning, she tucks her hand into Marcel's elbow and says, "Ready?"

Marcel offers a small smile and nods, ducking his head and if it weren't for the hairdresser's worth of product in it, Veronica would totally ruffle his hair.

"Uh, yeah. 'M ready."

Veronica waggles her fingers at the horde before leaving with Marcel, making sure to put a little extra sway in her hips. They can look, and they can think whatever the hell they like about her leaving with Marcel.

If she has it her way, at least some of it will actually come true.

He points out his car a little way down the street and her evening is already looking up because it means she doesn't have to take the bus for once.

"Are you sure, Veronica? I mean, I'll be fine, I'll just - "

"I'm sure," she says as Marcel pulls out his keys and presses the button to unlock the doors.

"You're coming with me, and no arguments."

He ducks his head again, and she can see the blush high on his cheeks and if she gets her way, he's going to be doing that a _lot_.

They don’t speak much in the car, just Veronica directing Marcel to her building and to the parking garage underneath.

The elevator is still broken, but Veronica’s apartment is on the second floor. She’s more than willing to ditch her damn heels by the time she unlocks her door, however.

She kicks them off in the entryway, and points through to the living room.

“Go sit down. I”m going to order pizza and open a bottle of wine.You don’t mind if I slip into something more comfortable do you?”

Veronica cocks her hip and grins as Marcel chokes and nearly trips over his feet.

“Calm down, honey,” she says, resting her hand on his arm. “I’m talking about swapping the skirt of torture for jeans and a t-shirt. That’s all.”

“Oh. Oh, right. Um. Of course.”

Veronica snorts and gives Marcel a light shove. He’s too easy. “Go on. Make yourself at home. I won’t be long.”

She feels much more herself, once she’s changed into her favourite weekend jeans and a faded band t-shirt, bare-foot and curled up on the couch with a glass of wine.

Marcel is staring at his glass like the wine is talking to him, and Veronica tilts her head to the side, curious.

“Okay there? You look a little …”

Marcel blinks and lifts his head, turning towards her. “I - yes, sorry I’m fine, I’m okay, I’m just not used to - oh god, that sounds terrible, I don’t mean - “

Veronica puts her glass down and reaches out, rubbing at Marcel’s shoulder, doing her best not to notice how broad it feels under her hand. Well. How about that. 

“Not used to what?”

“I - I was going to say - not used to - people being nice to me for no reason, but you’re nothing _but_ nice to me and I don’t want to sound like a dick because you’re so, you’re so _nice_ and you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen and oh god please make me stop - “

Veronica touches his chin until he turns his head towards her and leans in, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth.

“One. I’m nice to you because I like you. Two. You’re not a dick. And three. Thank you.”

Marcel sighs and lifts his hand to rub at his eyes under his glasses, a nervous habit Veronica sees at least ten times a day.

The buzzer rings off in the sudden silence and Veronica goes to retrieve the pizza. She smiles when she comes back in - Marcel has kicked off his shoes and he’s filled his wine glass again, studying the deep red liquid.

“Is - is this okay? I just, I feel so comfortable - “

“It’s fine, honey. My shitty apartment is your shitty apartment.”

“Heh. Thanks.”

“Dinner is served.”

They eat, and get through the bottle of wine between them, as Veronica gradually draws Marcel out of himself, getting him to relax and talk.

He’s discarded his vest ( _finally_ ) and undone the top button of his shirt. He’s sprawled out now, his ridiculous legs going in all directions and Veronica thinks she can see the shadow of ink on his chest.

She’s sitting facing him, cross-legged, nursing the last of the wine in the bottom of her glass. She feels warm and content, and ready for whatever might happen next.

Marcel rubs at his face, his long fingers bumping up against his glasses, which he takes off with a sigh, leaning forward to drop them on the coffee table.

He half-slumps back, his eyes on the ceiling.

“Do you know,” he says then, quietly, “that in my whole life, I’ve only ever kissed one girl. One. In my whole life.”

Veronica raises her eyebrows and reaches over to put her own glass on the coffee table.

“Okay,” she says, to show him she’s listening. He turns his head and she’s struck, suddenly, by how _green_ his eyes are, and how the way he’s looking at her now gives her a little kick of _want_ deep down. 

“It was at - senior prom. She was, uh, a cheerleader, and she asked me to go with her. Joke on me, right? She was trying to make her boyfriend jealous. Anyway. She kissed me on the side of the dancefloor you know?”

Veronica hums softly, not wanting to interrupt.

“All I got out of it was a black eye and broken glasses. I don’t even remember her name. And - from then till now - I haven’t really met anyone I _wanted_ to kiss.”

He blinks his eyes, slow, once, twice, and Veronica licks her lips, hardly realising she’s doing it until she tastes wine residue on her tongue.

“And I want. I want to kiss you, Veronica so very badly and I want to do - uh, other things that aren’t kissing, but I want to do them really badly but I’ve never done _any_ of the things I want to do and what if, what if I’m terrible or - make a mess of things or - “

Veronica leans forward again, kissing him with a little bit more intent, but still perfectly chaste, lips closed and all, though she’d give a _lot_ to see Marcel’s pretty pink mouth swollen from making out for hours, and maybe other things.

Mmmmm … Veronica thinks vaguely. Other things.

“Honey, relax, okay? If by _other things_ you mean sex, then we’re totally on the same page, I’ve been dying to get you out of those vests for _months_ And it’s just sex. It’s _supposed_ to be messy. Now. Come with me. Come on.”

She stands up and holds out her hand, waiting patiently till Marcel takes it and heaves himself to his feet.

Veronica rocks back on her heels and smiles, just a bit.

“Now. Walk this way, big boy.”

She drops his hand, turns around and puts a little extra sway in her walk, only biting her lip once as she hears a stumble and a crash behind her before Marcel catches up, muttering soft “sorrys” close to the back of her neck.

Veronica simply shakes her head and leads Marcel into her bedroom. He stops in the doorway, hovering and looking like a cross between the most hesitant, virginal boy, which well - and honestly _sin_. And the worst part of it is that he’s completely unconscious of the second part with his stupid long legs and, from the glimpses and touches Veronica has caught, his stupidly fit body. _Then_ there’s the hint of ink on his skin and his collarbones peeking out …

Veronica shakes her head and bites her lip, holding out her hand.

“It’s all right. Come on. It’s just you and me, and I promise, you’re not going to make a fool of yourself, and I’m not going to laugh at you. It’s all right to let go Marcel ..”

She doesn’t move, but keeps her hand out, her palm facing up. The next move has to be up to Marcel and she has no idea what he’s thinking.

He licks his lip and bites down on the bottom one, making it come up red and dear god Veronica thinks she’s about to lose control of herself and just - 

Marcel derails her thoughts when he takes a deep breath and a step inside the room, ducking his head, a pink flush riding high on his cheekbones. His hair is starting to come loose from its daily gel torture and tiny curls are coming out, framing his face.

“I’m - kind of scared,” he says quietly, but he stands his ground, and meets Veronica’s eyes.

“It’s just you and me, babe. Nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen, all right? What - would you like to do?”

“I. Um. Well. Uhm. The kissing, that - was nice?”

Veronica nods, and sits down on the bed, patting the neatly made covers beside her.

“Well, that’s a good place to start, but in order for that to happen, we sort of have to be in each other’s space.”

Ten minutes later, she’s managed to get Marcel’s shirt off and she’s thinking of maybe making him walk around shirtless _all the time_ because under the stuffy shirts and stupid sweater vests, Marcel is lean-muscled and cut and covered in ridiculous tattoos that make her laugh even as she presses a kiss against what turns out to be a bird on his collarbone.

Her mouth feels swollen and buzzed, and she can see that his lips look like he’s been sucking on a red popsicle and all she can do is lean in to kiss him again, as he awkwardly rubs a hand over her shoulder.

“You can touch me, Marcel. That’s - sort of the point.”

Marcel drops his eyes again, but he smiles, and a dimple appears and disappears in his cheek. “Okay. Um, I mean could I - “ he runs his hand down her back and gently pushes at the bottom of her t-shirt and well, yes. “Yes, okay, hang on. I’ll do that.”

Veronica pulls the t-shirt over her head and dumps it on the floor.

“Oh.” It’s soft and barely a word as Marcel reaches out again, hesitantly stroking his hand over her skin and Veronica feels like her very bones are going to catch fire, even as she reminds herself that it’s Marcel’s first time, and she doesn’t want to scare him off.

He flicks his gaze up to her again, and Veronica smiles, reaching her hand out and curling it around the back of his neck, playing with the soft curls that have sprung free from their gel prison. He sighs into the touch and bends his head forward, shuffling a little bit closer to Veronica on the bed.

“That. That’s nice, I like that. Could I um.” His voice dies out but he slides his hand up until it’s resting under her breast and she sighs into the touch, nodding as she keeps stroking the back of Marcel’s neck.

She feels like they’re both holding their breath, waiting for something, and she’d laugh at herself for being such an idiotic sap, but she can’t laugh at Marcel, even inside her own head. Instead, she relaxes into his touch - less hesitant now, but still barely gliding over her skin as his fingers reach up to brush over her nipple, that hardens up under his touch. 

He does it again, and Veronica groans softly, biting back the sound, not wanting to interrupt his exploration.

“Is this - is this all right?”

“Mmmhmm. It’s - good, great, fine, lovely.” Veronica bites her lip when she realises she’s babbling. She moves again, lying back and smoothing her hand over his shoulder so he follows her down.

It’s awkward for a moment, until they settle with Marcel between her legs, his hands still exploring, the span of them over her waist, her hips rising up over her jeans, her nipples that respond easily to his touch. 

She lets her hands roam freely over Marcel’s broad back, shoulders, skittering over his ass, shifting under the stretching fabric of his pants. She can feel his length, hard and pressing against her, and it feels thick and long and she realises that Marcel is breathing harshly against her neck.

“S-sorry I’m s-sorry - I - “ and she wonders for half a second what he’s talking about before she feels it, his hips rutting nearly helplessly against her and god, she thinks. I did that.

“It’s all right, Marcel, breathe for me babe, it’s all right.”

He mumbles something against her skin that she can’t make out, so she just keeps rubbing his back, smoothing her hands down the long expanse of it until she feels some of the tension leach out of his shoulders.

“It’s all right, Marcel, come on, it’s fine, we’ve got all night, I’m not done with you yet, not going to kick you out for that, what do you take me for? Come on …”

She’s near babbling, but it’s enough for Marcel to raise his head, and his hair is getting progressively more mussed, his face and neck are flushed red and his eyes look glassy.

She may, possibly, maybe, be just a little bit gone for him.

Just a bit. 

She helps get his pants and his boxers off, dropping them over the side of the bed, and ignoring the mess in favour of getting her own jeans and knickers off in the interest of fair play.

Marcel’s head is still down, and he’s still flushed like he’s embarrassed, so Veronica just kisses him and kisses him until he can meet her gaze again, and she can introduce him to what she likes to call the wonderful world of the clitoris.

That makes him laugh, and his dimples come back, so Veronica counts that as a win. She also counts it as a win when he slides his hand between her legs and starts gently rubbing at her folds with his fingers. She fists her hands in the sheets and bites her lip because _god_.

“Is that - am I doing it right? Oh - you’re oh. Am I - doing that?”

Veronica laughs, and it only comes out a little shaky “Are you trying to ask if you’re making me wet? Marcel!!!” She feigns being shocked but ruins it when his fingers slide up and over her clit, the same light, brushing touch as before and her voice catches on a laugh.

“Oh,” he says again, ducking his head, but Veronica realises that he’s - he’s watching himself, watching his fingers.

“You can -” Veronica slips her own hand down, giving up words in favour of _showing_ and god bless, he might not have done this before ever, but he’s a quick study and it’s not long before she can feel the same coil of want as earlier in the evening come back much stronger.

“Can I. I want. Um. Can I taste you?”

Veronica closes her eyes and just _breathes_ for a moment, before quickly nodding her head so Marcel doesn’t think she’s completely lost her mind, though she realises that might not be so far away when she feels the first light touch of Marcel’s tongue against her folds, licking slowly up and over her clit. He does it again, and again, until she thinks she really will go mad.

She groans low and long, when he pushes two fingers inside her, not half as hesitant as he was not so long ago, as he gives her clit a soft, experimental suck which makes her hips buck up off the bed and let a stream of profanities loose.

Marcel pops his head up and he’s _grinning_ , which just makes Veronica start laughing.

She shoves at his head, making an even bigger mess of his hair. “Go on. Back you go. ‘M close and it’s not nice to leave a lady hanging.”

Marcel grins again and then does something with his tongue and long, long fingers that makes Veronica’s breath catch in the back of her throat, and causes a long, rolling orgasm that she can only ride out, finally pushing weakly at Marcel’s head when she’s feeling oversensitised and swollen.

He pushes back onto his knees and Veronica vaguely registers that he’s fully hard again, his lovely, big _pretty_ dick standing up thick against his flat stomach

“C’mere.” It’s all the encouragement he needs before he’s pressing her into the mattress with his whole long, ridiculous body, and she’s kissing her taste out of his mouth.

“Veronica, Veronica. I- I’m c-close,” He whispers it this time against the hollow of her throat, and as much as she really, really wants to feel him inside her, she knows he’s not going to last that long, so she slips her hand between them, slicking a thumb over the tip before wrapping her fingers around his length and bringing him off easy with the laziest hand she’s ever given anyone.

They lie sprawled, tangled together in the sheets, Marcel’s head on her chest. Veronica spreads a hand on his back, enjoying how broad it is, and how the muscles shift under her hands. 

After a long, slow shower, they fall back into bed together with nothing but sleep on their minds till the morning.

Veronica wakes up with Marcel curled around her, his front pressed to her back, one arm across her waist. She nudges back against his morning pick-me-up and hides a smile when he nudges his hips forward, mumbling something incoherent as he presses kisses to the back of her neck, careless of the mess of her black hair all over the pillow.

She fumbles in her nightstand, finally digging up a condom that she rolls on him before pressing Marcel onto his back, working herself slick before lazily rocking down onto Marcel’s cock.

She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth as his hands come up to her waist, just holding on as she moves on him, easily as if they’ve been doing this for years.

Marcel blinks up at her and smiles, wide and happy, moving his hands up into her hair, tangling in the thick strands and drawing her down for a long, deep kiss.

“Morning,” she says against his mouth, her breath catching on a gasp as he rolls his hips lazily up to meet her rhythm.

“Morning.”


End file.
